It's Your Call
by Sam C
Summary: Janeway's relationship with Seven continues to grow, as they enjoy a new closeness.  A lighter, humorous interlude which explores the two women's characters through interaction together and with others.  6th in series, can be read as a standalone.  J/7.
1. Chapter 1

It's Your Call

This is the sixth story in the series after 'Distress Call', 'House Call', 'Call to Arms', 'Call me Kathryn' and 'A Call from the Dark Side'. All stories in the series feature a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes. If you don't like that, don't read this.

All reviews and comments are appreciated, and I want to thank the people who regularly review my work – if just one person enjoys my stories then that makes it worthwhile. Thank you.

Chapter 1

**Part 1**

Kathryn Janeway lay on one side, propped up on her elbow to afford a better view of her sleeping lover. The pale, narrow face was framed by shimmering, blonde hair and appeared serene and very young. Her eyes, so striking when open with a cool ice-blue that could penetrate into the soul, were closed, light blonde lashes softening the edges. Unthinkingly Janeway stretched out her free arm and skimmed her hand lightly down Seven-of-Nine's cheek, then caressed her shoulder and arm. Usually, the ex-Borg's biceps would be firm, her body taut with energy and power, but now her limbs were soft and pliable, Janeway able to move the arm easily so that she could rest her hand on the younger woman's slender waist.

"You are doing it again," Seven's voice said, though she didn't open her eyes, and the Captain guiltily removed her hand and lay down on her back, smiling at the ceiling. "Why do you watch me sleeping?" the voice demanded, this time Seven rolling over to face her partner.

"You're so beautiful," replied Janeway softly, and Seven was mollified a little. Then her eyes narrowed once again.

"Do you not find me beautiful when I am awake?"

Janeway suspected that she was being wound up, and sat up suddenly, throwing off the covers and playfully pouncing on her young lover, kissing her neck and working her way down to the Borg's ample breasts. "Oh, yes," she breathed against the warm, smooth flesh, nuzzling every square centimetre before returning to each large, hardened nipple in turn, flicking with her tongue before kissing them gently. "I always find you beautiful, Seven. Do you not like to watch me whilst I'm sleeping?" Janeway raised her head, meeting her lover's eyes and grinning wickedly.

The ex-Borg frowned, realising that she had lost the debate either way and resorting to tactics similar to the Captain's. Barely needing any effort at all, Seven used her Borg-enhanced strength to flip Janeway over and reverse their positions, but she was very careful not to restrain her partner in any way. Bending over, Seven lowered her head to Janeway's, their lips meeting in a warm, deep kiss that sent shoots of pleasure down the older woman's spine as the young, lithe form straddled Janeway, their intimate areas touching. The Captain's expression changed, and Seven rose up on her knees immediately, releasing the slight pressure on her lover's body and allowing Janeway to move easily if she wanted to.

Ice-blue eyes met grey-blue as the two women locked their gazes, the blonde's carrying a trace of worry whilst Janeway's softened, her fleeting anxiety passing. The Captain's hands grasped her partner's firm buttocks, drawing Seven down onto her before slipping further up the supple form, stroking the young woman's back and shoulders as they kissed once more. Just weeks ago such a position would have been unbearable for the emotionally fragile woman, with the complete trust it required and the memories it would have invoked, but the relationship had built in strength and understanding.

Slowly, Seven rocked against Janeway, their centres of passion sliding together whilst they continued to share kisses, the younger woman bearing most of her weight on her forearms, stretched out on the bed above the Captain's shoulders. Janeway's hands touched her lover everywhere she could reach, but when her arousal reached beyond the point of no return she once again cupped her partner's lower cheeks, guiding her in the rhythm that would push both of them over the edge.

The experience was intense, the bond between lovers strong and unwavering as their gazes met again. Both women climaxed almost simultaneously, staring deep into the other's eyes throughout whilst their bodies, slick with perspiration, bucked and shuddered together. Immediately, the younger woman moved off her lover and settled down beside Janeway instead, one arm and leg resting gently on her Captain's naked body.

"That is why I prefer to look at you whilst you are awake," murmured Seven, but Janeway didn't have the energy to reply – unsurprisingly, since that would have meant admitting that the intelligent, witty young Borg definitely had a point.

**Part 2**

Torres had been working in the cramped Jeffries tube for over an hour, and even her tough Klingon muscles were protesting. Groaning, she flopped into a sitting position, leaning against the side of the narrow access corridor where she and Seven were making several enhancements to the plasma relays.

"Tell me again how much this is going to improve the warp drive's efficiency, Seven," the Chief Engineer snapped at her friend, "Because it sure as hell isn't improving mine!"

The blonde smirked cheekily, casting a pointed glance towards Torres, who wore one of her trademark scowls. "Zero-point-zero-eight percent," she replied coolly, and her workmate groaned again.

"Is that all? Why are we even bothering?" The proud engineer wasn't serious, for she cared so much about the ship – and her crew, she would admit when pushed – that she would go to great lengths to make Voyager more efficient, faster, stronger and deadlier. But she was feeling tired and grumpy, her friend's unaccustomed chirpiness getting on her nerves.

"What's making you so happy?" Torres demanded, passing implements across as Seven continued to work, either ignoring or not feeling any physical discomfort from kneeling on the hard floors. "Oh, no, on second thoughts, don't tell me. I know that look. It's the 'I've-had-amazing-sex-and-can't-stop-thinking-about-it' look. Yeah, I used to get that look, too. The novelty wears off," the half-Klingon added, determined to put a damper on her colleague's enthusiasm.

Seven smiled again, remembering her lover's expression as she reached her peak, then the cuddling afterwards. It was the conversation that had taken place then that was the real cause of the Borg's odd mood, though, and she turned to Torres, opening her mouth to speak, but was cut off before she started.

"No, la la la la I'm not listening," said B'Elanna, clamping her hands over her ears as though Seven were about to assault them with a pair of Ceti Eels rather than perhaps make a casual reference to her love life with the Captain. In reality, the young woman was about to do neither, and patiently waited until Torres removed her hands, relenting.

"This morning, Captain Janeway asked me if I would like to share quarters with her," Seven explained, finally halting her work and sitting cross-legged on the rough deck. "I was pleased that she asked me, but as I pointed out, it is unnecessary, since I am there most of the time anyway."

"Oh, don't be so obtuse, Seven! It's a different thing altogether. At the moment, they are still the Captain's quarters, her home, and you are a guest. If you argue, you can easily walk out, knowing you're not leaving your own home. There are things you can't do now, like move furniture, for instance, or redecorate, or walk in unannounced."

"Why would I wish to redecorate?" asked the ex-Borg, her expression confused now. "I like the Captain's quarters as they are. She has perfectly adequate taste."

"But that's exactly my point – it's the Captain's décor, the Captain's furniture, not yours. Seven, when a partner asks you to live with them, there is more to it – they are asking you to be a part of their life all the time, to share in everything. It's one of the biggest gestures a person can make, particularly a Starship Captain who is used to her quarters being her own and being separate from everyone on board if she wants to be. What did she say?"

Seven looked uncomfortable, and the engineer suspected that her friend was paraphrasing somewhat. "Captain Janeway said that I should think about it, but that she thought I would be…more immediately amenable to the idea."

B'Elanna laughed, patting the young blonde on the shoulder. "You'll love it, Seven, because you love the Captain. Tell her yes and get on with it, alright?"

"I appreciate your advice," Seven said, nodding. "I will tell her tonight."

"Just make sure I'm invited to the celebratory dinner," warned Torres playfully, and her friend grinned in response.

**Part 3**

Chakotay was relaxing in the former observation lounge (as usual he stressed the 'former' in his mind), off duty and seated in his preferred chair. He looked out of the windows, at this time the only view being that of Voyager's warp field as the sleek vessel sped through space. After realising that his glass of brandy was actually his fourth that morning, he hastily put it down out of reach. He had worked night shifts for the past week whilst Harry Kim had been on leave, so in fact to the Commander the time was more like evening. Still, it didn't do to be spotted guzzling spirits at 10.20 hours – for that, he would have to return to his quarters.

He was still trying to name the bar he had created, refuting all the obvious suggestions: Delta Lounge, Delta View, Chakotay's, Space Bar plus many, many more. Tom Paris had offered 'One-Upward', and though the Commander had been amused, he had wanted something more original. Already, though, to the First Officer's consternation, he had heard it used a few times by crewmembers and it seemed that rapidly the name was starting to stick. It was either come up with something fast, or accept the new designation with good grace. Caught up in his musings, he didn't hear the Captain's approach, and was more than a little startled when she spoke from the next chair.

"Morning, Chakotay. Anything interesting happen on the night shift?" Janeway was simply making polite conversation, for she knew that if anything of note had happened, she would either have been called to duty or else read a report about it in the morning.

The large man smiled, but there was tension as well as tiredness around his eyes, dark circles giving him a weary air. "Nothing, Captain, all systems normal and nothing exciting on sensors. Seems we've hit a quiet patch."

"I'm not disappointed," Janeway admitted, leaning back and following Chakotay's gaze out through the panoramic windows that dwarfed the room. "I could do with some personal time, Chakotay. After everything that's happened…" she didn't continue, both officers knowing to what she was referring. Just a few weeks ago, after a horrific experience that had turned Seven-of-Nine into an unknowing serial killer, her Borg implants malfunctioning, Janeway had attempted to end her life. She had been the one to apprehend the ex-Borg whom she had encountered in her own quarters, dripping with the blood of her latest victim.

Only Chakotay and Janeway knew of the Captain's suicide bid, having together agreed that, for the good of Voyager and her crew, Janeway must remain in command. The Doctor had disagreed vehemently, absolutely refusing to go along with the decision regardless of the effect that losing a proven Captain would have had on the entire crew and threatening to relieve both officers of their command. Janeway was forced to alter the hologram's program, erasing the incident from his memory, and it had not been spoken of or alluded to since. An honest, loyal officer, possessing courage and integrity, she would own up to her actions if and when Voyager reached the Alpha Quadrant, and hope that the rest of her service history would be distinguished enough to save her from too severe a punishment.

"I've asked Seven to move into my quarters," Janeway said after a moment, and her friend caught the hint of a frown.

"Oh?" he enquired mildly, "and what was her response?"

"A typical one," Janeway finally smiled, for she had grown to know the young Borg better than anyone and suspected that things would turn out the way she intended. "She said the move seemed 'futile', since she already 'occupied much of her off-duty hours in the Captain's quarters'."

"Did you explain to her that it was different when two people actually live together, share a home?" Chakotay asked, suspecting that the answer would be no, but for a good reason. The astute Commander wasn't wrong.

"No, I didn't. I'm fairly sure that at the first opportunity Seven will discuss it with Tom or B'Elanna; either of them will put her straight. I'm planning a dinner tonight to celebrate, if I can remember how to program a replicator. Seven's taken over meal preparation lately, and whilst I don't object to that I'd like to produce something edible once in a while!"

Chakotay grinned, some of the lines disappearing from his brow as he did so. "Kathryn, you know full well you will end up asking Neelix for help. Why not just cut to the chase and go see him now? He'd be delighted to provide a meal for you and Seven."

Slightly miffed at the implication but hardly able to disagree given the number of disastrous culinary attempts under her belt, the Captain scowled as she nodded. "At least then he'll have some warning." She pushed herself up from the low, comfy chair. "Take care, and I'll see you later to hand over."

Striding across the room, in the confident gait of a Captain in command, Janeway left One-Upward.

"Damn," muttered Chakotay, finishing the brandy after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

Neelix smiled at the Captain, his whiskers twitching as he listened to her request.

"So, no leola root, nothing that's still moving, and definitely no eggs," Janeway repeated, being very specific, for the little chef was nothing if not creative. Privately, she wasn't certain that he had any more talent for cooking than she herself did, but at least if the bumbling Talaxian got it wrong, she could blame him.

"Hmm," mused Neelix, looking around as though expecting an idea to literally pop out from one of the cupboards. "No eggs…no leola – ah!" he exclaimed, making the Captain jump. "I have some delicious sausages that would be just the thing, fried up with onions or in a casserole perhaps-"

"Sausages?" interrupted Janeway, her tone highly suspicious. "And what is in these sausages, Neelix?"

The little man looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably, and Janeway thought that she probably wasn't going to like the answer. "They're pork, Captain. With some herbs and spices, of course, and a little tomato-"

"Pork? As in, meat from pigs?" Janeway highly doubted that, given that the nearest pigs were about fifty thousand light years away.

"Well…they're very similar to pigs," said the Talaxian with an unconvincing smile. "And several of the crew have remarked on the, ah, porkiness of the meat. Trust me, Captain, you'll love them." He brightened considerably as he began to list the fifty different ways he could serve them, and Janeway stopped him with a hint of a cough.

"All right, I'll give it a try. In a casserole, then, with vegetables. And I mean normal vegetables, like potato and carrot, alright?" Janeway fixed her chef and morale officer with a steely stare, and he nodded hastily, whiskers wafting.

"As you wish, Captain. Have a good day!"

**Part 2**

Chakotay's eyes flicked open when the door of his quarters chimed unexpectedly. Most people who would normally visit him socially were on the day shift, and nobody would disturb him with routine matters since the Captain was on duty.

"Come in," he called hoarsely, easing out of the chair and trying to tug his rumpled uniform into some kind of order. He was unshaven and unwashed, and was glad that he had the lights dimmed. The doors swished open to reveal the small form of B'Elanna Torres, framed against the light of the corridor.

Torres looked around, sniffing at the disarray of the usually militarily-neat quarters. Clothes were strewn around and dirty dishes rested upon several surfaces, waiting to be loaded into the replicator. The man himself looked rough, but he smiled when he saw his friend.

"Afternoon, B'Elanna. What can I do for you?"

"I think I should be asking what I can do for you, Chakotay. What's gotten into you?"

The First Officer shrugged, waving one arm around casually. "I hate night shifts, always have. Sends my body clock haywire. Is this a social call?"

"I guess. I just wondered if you'd heard the Captain's news?"

Chakotay snorted, sitting down heavily and glancing away from the half-Klingon's stare. He'd thought of nothing else since his chat with Janeway in One-Upward, and the more he thought about it, the more despondent he felt. It wasn't that he begrudged the Captain happiness – far from it, he wanted to see her make a life for herself with her partner, and they were clearly crazy about one another. The Commander didn't honestly know why the relationship had affected him the way it had.

"Yes, I heard. I'm very pleased for them." The response sounded artificial, wooden, an empty platitude, and Torres wasn't fooled. Yet curiously, she found herself unable to question her former Maquis colleague further. Deciding he needed time to adjust, the Chief Engineer nodded and pasted a smile onto her face.

"I've never been a fan of night shifts, either," she admitted, looking around at the mess once again. "Want some help clearing up?" Her offer was genuine, but Chakotay refused, and the young woman sensed that it was time to leave. "Alright, then. See you later, Chakotay."

As she left, Torres wondered what she should do now. Go to the Captain and tell her that Chakotay was having a difficult time, or respect her friend's privacy and keep the hell out of it, for the moment? The latter seemed the best option, and she tried not to think about the matter as she returned to Engineering.

**Part 3**

Janeway was surprised when the doors opened, looking up from her lunch questioningly as the doors to her quarters slid apart. Seven-of-Nine remained out in the corridor, regarding the door panel curiously. Tapping a few buttons, she smiled hesitantly at the Captain as realisation dawned.

"You reprogrammed the door to allow me entry," stated the ex-Borg, obviously touched. "Am I disturbing you?"

Janeway left the table and crossed the room quickly, standing on the threshold and beckoning her partner in. "Not at all. I hope this means what I think it does," she continued, picking up a heavy case and dragging it inside with some difficulty. She looked expectantly at Seven, who inclined her head.

"If you think it means I have accepted your offer of living with you, you are correct." Picking up a smaller case and lifting it with ease, the young woman entered her new home, which she would share with the woman she loved. As the doors closed, the two women embraced happily then kissed briefly – their first kiss in their own quarters.

"That's wonderful, Seven," Janeway gasped, tears of joy pooling in the corner of her shining eyes. She hugged the blonde again, carried away in the moment, and eventually the ex-Borg had to push the Captain away gently.

"I have brought my belongings, if that is acceptable," Seven said, nodding towards the cases. Remembering what Torres had said about these being the Captain's quarters, she had brought a few items along with her clothes and other necessities, and she opened the smaller case straight away. From it, the Borg withdrew a mangled mess of metal, about the size of a coffee pot, cradling it lovingly and staring at it for a minute before placing it on one of the shelves in prominent view, moving some of Janeway's things aside to make room.

"Ah, Seven – what is..are those?" Janeway corrected herself mid-sentence as the first hideous article was joined by another equally distasteful, rusted heap. The Captain couldn't take her eyes off the objects, which now dominated her precious display.

The younger woman tore her eyes from the contraptions, frowning at her lover as though the answer to the question was obvious. "My art, Captain. I did not think you would mind – Lieutenant Torres said that it is customary for a person moving in with another to contribute personal items to the shared dwelling. Is that not correct?"

"Well, of course, Seven – yes…" The Captain's eyes strayed once again to the jagged metal piles, which appeared to be constructed of a variety of metallic junk and welded inexpertly. "Of course…art?" She tried to keep the scepticism from her voice, and was thankful that the ex-Borg appeared to notice nothing amiss.

"During the Doctor's social lessons, he encouraged me to 'express myself' using different methods. Sculpture was one of the pastimes that I enjoyed. Do you like them?"

It was hard to reply truthfully, and Janeway skirted the question as best she could. "They're obviously special to you, Seven. Tell me, what…what do they represent?" _Shuttle accidents_, thought the Captain to herself, _exploded Borg cubes perhaps_?

"This one," Seven began, picking up the first one she had extracted from her case, rubbing a finger over a surface which came away flecked with blackened specks, "represents my transition from Borg drone to human. The other is designed to show the frailty of the human consciousness." As she gazed at her work, Janeway turned away, biting her lip to remove the grin assaulting her lips.

"I've made space for your clothes and things, Seven, if you'd like to take a look?" Without looking back, Janeway led the way into the bedroom, patting the fresh covers she had replicated that morning after Seven had left for her duty shift. The younger woman followed her agreeably, carrying the larger case, and as she opened it the Captain held her breath, releasing it only when it appeared certain that the container held nothing more worrying than clothing.

**Part 4**

B'Elanna Torres couldn't breathe, she was laughing so hard. Bent double, the Klingon had her hands on her knees, and Seven was seriously considering that her friend might be in actual danger of passing out. Managing to move, Torres flopped over a console, her body wracked with spasms of giggles. Eventually the hilarity subsided, and she wiped her tears off her cheeks with a grubby sleeve.

"Oh God, Seven, that's priceless," gasped the engineer, not daring to meet her friend's eyes just yet for fear it would set her off again. "And she bought it?" More giggles ensued as the Borg replied, mirth creeping into her own expression.

"The Captain believes that my 'art' is 'special' to me, and has allowed it to remain on display."

That did it, and B'Elanna collapsed against a bulkhead, this time her paroxysms of laughter silent, just the odd squeak escaping. Minutes passed as she struggled to regain her composure, the volatile Klingon emotions difficult to control. "I didn't think you had it in you, Seven. I wish I'd seen the Captain's face when you got them out, I really do. When are you going to tell her? At least let me go and have a look at them first?" she begged, grabbing the blonde's arm.

"I will tell her tonight," Seven stated, and she meant it.

"So, what were they made of?" asked the engineer, her face reddened and lips twitching.

"Worthless scraps of debris," answered the Borg calmly. "I welded them together using a laser scalpel. The one which I told Captain Janeway represents 'the frailty of the human consciousness' refused to weld satisfactorily as the components were incompatible. It fell to pieces several times."

It wasn't the only thing to do so, for the Borg's matter-of-fact statement sent all composure fleeing from the Klingon, who, tears streaming from her eyes, had to leave the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

Janeway, though officially on a duty shift, was relaxing. At least, that was what she intended, however whenever she looked up from her book, every unwitting glance across the living room fell upon the unbelievably ugly sculptures which Seven-of-Nine had put proudly on display. The things seemed to take over the entire room, ones eyes drawn to them like moths to a candle flame. One of them, the 'representation of the frailty of human consciousness' even appeared to be watching the Captain, two holes between jagged shards of metal forming slits that glared at her, baleful and malicious.

"Why?" muttered Janeway to herself, forcing her gaze back down to her pleasant, non-menacing book. "Why would she even _make_ those horrid things in the first place, let alone force them on me?" It was a moot question, for after inviting someone you love to share quarters you could hardly then tell them that their most precious artwork was not welcome. She sighed deeply, resigning herself to the notion that the metallic monstrosities were there to stay. Deciding on a hot bath, which was conveniently located in a wholly separate room to the sculptures, Janeway stood, for a moment convinced that she could smell rusted, burnt metal. Avoiding casting her eyes in the wrong direction, Janeway stood and hurried to her – their – bedroom, shutting the door behind her. In her haste, she forgot to lock the doors, left that way after Seven had departed earlier.

As the Captain was sinking into a steaming, bubbly bath, B'Elanna Torres sauntered up the corridor nearby, a broad smile widening her half-Klingon features. Approaching the Captain's quarters, the Chief Engineer was surprised when the doors slid open before she had a chance to request entry. Automatically, she stuck her head through the doorway, glancing around.

"Ah, hello? Captain? It's B'Elanna." There was no reply, and Torres turned to go, but something stopped her, a playfully wicked urge. 'Ok, just one little look,' thought the young woman, stepping carefully into the room. Hearing faint strains of music coming from the closed bedroom doors, Mahler maybe, or Wagner, Torres tiptoed around the corner and came face-to-face with Seven's infamous 'art'. Instantly a snort of laughter escaped her throat as she studied the hideous, mangled objects. Torres swallowed several times, strangling her laughter as best she could, but when a squeak escaped she instinctively clapped a hand to her mouth.

This stopped the noise, but the quick movement didn't take into account her proximity to the offending objects, and one of them toppled over with a clatter, one part detaching from the rest and falling to the floor. Gasping, this time with fright, Torres managed to retrieve the fallen piece and shove it roughly back into place, before she fled from the Captain's quarters, heart pounding in her chest.

**Part 2**

"So, Neelix, how about it? I'd have thought it was right up your street!" Tom Paris nudged the furry Talaxian in the arm and winked at his friend, Harry Kim, who was watching the interchange with amusement.

"Well, I don't know," huffed Neelix, moving away from the helmsman with a pointed glance. "I _am_ quite busy tonight, cooking for the Captain and all. And, well – a party? Oh, no, I don't think so, Tom." He shook his head exaggeratedly, long, wispy whiskers floating wildly through the air.

Paris shrugged his shoulders with an expression of mildly disappointed regret. "Ah, I suppose we'll have to do it without you. Won't be the same, though, will it, Harry?"

Kim smiled as though he were in physical pain and tolerating it manfully. "It certainly won't. Neelix throws the best parties. But, if he's busy…Well, we'll just have to organise the naming celebration ourselves. C'mon, Tom, best get started on the cocktail menu."

"Cocktails?" Neelix asked, his whiskers twitching now and betraying his interest. Tom and Harry grinned at one another.

"Oh, yeah, cocktails, champagne, decorations, the works. It's not every day Voyager christens a new bar, Neelix!"

"Well, I suppose it isn't, now, is it? Alright gentlemen, you've convinced me. Leave everything to me and I promise it will be the best party this ship's ever seen!"

Clapping the excited Talaxian on the back and thanking him profusely, Paris and Kim made their way out of the mess hall, their objective achieved.

"Didn't even have to bribe him," grinned Harry as the two officers walked towards the nearest turbolift.

"Ah, Harry, he _wanted_ to do it. He loves parties; it'll make him happy-"

"And we won't have to lift a finger," finished Kim triumphantly, and both men laughed loudly, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

**Part 3**

Stumbling out of her bedroom, wrapped only in a towel and dripping all over the carpet, Janeway was not amused. Thinking she had heard a noise, she had leapt out from the relaxing bath she was taking and hurried into the living room only to be met by empty air. The noise had sounded…clattery, like someone dropping a tool onto a hard surface, but as she studied the room it was evident that the floor was clear. It had had sort of a ring to it, the noise definitely…metallic, thought the Captain, and as the thought struck her she whirled around, almost losing the towel. Sitting there innocently on the shelves, like children who not seconds ago had been finger-painting the furniture, were the metal sculptures, and somehow Janeway just knew that it was one of them that had made the noise.

The Captain leaned forward, inexplicably reluctant yet determined not to be made to feel foolish in her own quarters. On the right, the 'conscious frailty' - or whatever the hell it was - appeared to have moved slightly, judging by the dirty marks on the shelf. Tentatively, Janeway reached out to pick it up, but with the slightest of contacts a piece of wickedly-sharp metal came loose, separating from the rest of the object.

"Fuck," she blurted, looking around guiltily even though she knew her quarters were empty, for it was rare that the proper, professional Captain resorted to such language. She was badly rattled, feeling suddenly dizzy and realising that she was hyperventilating. Backing away slowly, the towel-clad woman retreated to the bedroom – mainly to regain her dignity and also to contemplate the future of the evil artwork that had given her such a fright.

**Part 4**

Torres was still shaking slightly when she reached the safety of engineering and was glad to see her partner, Tom Paris, chatting with Harry Kim who was working at a subsidiary engineering console. The Klingon marched across to where the two men stood, then glared at Kim until, with a hasty nod, the Ensign left them alone.

"What's the matter, B'Elanna? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Tom grinned though, obviously not recognising the seriousness of his girlfriend's expression.

Placing her hand on a rail to steady herself, Torres spoke in a low, urgent tone. "I've done something _really_ bad, Tom. God, I don't know what came over me."

Laughing, Paris punched her jokingly in the arm, still oblivious to the Chief Engineer's personal red alert. "You've always done something really bad, B'Elanna. It's your Klingon half, with that volatile temperament. Relax, it'll be fine."

"_No, it won't be fine!_" hissed Torres, grabbing Tom's wrist and squeezing so hard that pain shot up his arm, causing him to snatch the limb away, eyes wide with astonishment. "I snuck into the Captain's quarters, and-"

"You did WHAT?" exclaimed Paris incredulously, and several other crewmembers glanced their way. Noticing, the blond helmsman lowered his voice as he continued. "Why on Earth did you do that, B'Elanna? She'll bust you down to Ensign if she finds out!"

"She won't find out," Torres said hastily, with just a hint of a wobble, "but anyway, that's not the worst thing."

Paris regarded his partner incredulously, unable to believe his ears. He breathed deeply and shook his head as though trying to clear his mind. "Oh?" was all the reply he could manage, and he desperately wished at that moment that he could be anywhere else on the ship. Listening to the story made him feel like an accessory.

B'Elanna couldn't help smiling despite the scare she had received, for she could read Tom's face like a book. And, if you thought about it, the whole incident was quite amusing, she decided, beginning to laugh again. Something about the whole 'art' prank was so deliciously wicked. "I went in to have a look at some, ah, artwork, that Seven has moved into their quarters." The giggles were back, and Torres was struggling to finish her sentence, made even more difficult when she saw the uncomprehending confusion in Tom's expression. "Anyway, I…accidentally knocked one of them over, one of Seven's sculptures that is, and a bit broke off…" B'Elanna dissolved once again into fits of laughter, and for several minutes she was able to neither speak nor listen.

Waiting patiently, for no matter what he had to question his feisty girlfriend further, eventually Paris tried again. "So. You broke into the Captain's quarters-"

"I didn't break in; the doors were open."

"You entered the Captain's quarters without permission, touched a precious sculpture belonging to the Captain's partner and broke it? Then what?"

"Captain Janeway was in the bathroom – I could hear her music playing. So I put the piece back as best I could and ran like hell. What else could I do?" demanded Torres, eyes flashing as she dared Tom to answer. "Anyway, that was ten minutes ago, so I'm probably safe now – if she'd realised someone was there she'd have looked at the logs and seen that I was in there, and I'd probably be being demoted right now."

With a thoughtful expression, Paris pondered the predicament that his headstrong wife had created. An idea came to him. "B'Elanna, exactly how precious are these sculptures to Seven? Maybe you could talk to her, see if-"

"Of course!" exclaimed the engineer, slapping the side of a console with her hand, the noise causing Paris to jump. "Thank you, Tom."

"But – I didn't say anything" Paris was confused all over again. Torres patted his arm in a patronising manner, as though he had been the one with the urgent problem all along and she had been the one to solve it.

Looking around to ensure that she couldn't be overheard, she tapped her comm badge. "Torres to Seven-of-Nine."

"Seven here." The response was flat and without inflection.

"Ah, Seven, can you talk?"

"Evidently. I am doing so now."

Torres rolled her eyes, for though her friendship with the ex-Borg had come a long way, there was still much about the woman that was irritating to say the least. "No, I mean, are you alone?"

"Ensign Kim is present."

"Alright. You know the two artefacts that we discussed earlier?"

"Yes."

"One of them has suffered some unfortunate accidental damage. I hope that doesn't pose too much of a problem?"

There was silence for a number of seconds, and Torres was about to speak again when the reply came clearly over her comm badge.

"I mentioned earlier that this was a frequent occurrence during construction. Do not worry; it will not be difficult to repair the damage."

B'Elanna breathed a sigh of relief, for Seven's words carried an unmistakeable tinge of amusement. "I'm glad to hear it. Torres out."

Turning to her partner and smiling, the Chief Engineer met with a frown from her partner. Paris had listened to the conversation with a growing feeling that there was more to this than he thought.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" asked Tom directly, and Torres grinned.

"I promise, I'll explain everything tonight."

Mollified, Paris left engineering to return to his station on the Bridge, whilst a relieved Torres vowed to never do anything quite so stupid again.

**Part 5**

Dressed once more in a crisp, clean uniform, her hair perfectly coiffed and boots gleaming, Janeway emerged from her bedroom feeling much more like a Starship Captain than she had the last time she had walked across her living room. With no hesitation she strode up to the shelves where Seven's sculptures sat and picked up the two parts of the broken object, studying the join carefully. It didn't appear to have been welded by conventional means, and the lines where metal had been melted were extremely thin and uniform in width and depth, as though sections had been carefully melted using a laser of some sort. But, she thought, lasers were very rarely used in engineering work now, having been superseded by more efficient, simpler tools. In fact, the only small lasers Janeway could think of that could be used in this way were medical laser scalpels.

Running with the idea, the Captain tapped her comm badge. Of course, it all made sense now. It was the Doctor who had encouraged Seven to explore artistic expression, and he probably watched her as she worked on her creative masterpieces. "Janeway to the Doctor."

"This is the Doctor. What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I need your help. I was just looking at one of Seven's sculptures when I accidentally broke it, and-"

"Sculptures, Captain? What sculptures?" The hologram sounded irritated, which was not unusual.

"Her metallic artwork. Anyway, I was wondering if you knew whether or not it was a laser scalpel she used to weld the pieces together."

"Captain, I really haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about. Seven has never done any sculpture of any kind, though I tried to persuade her that it would be worth trying. But she said it was a 'futile endeavour' and refused."

Janeway was speechless. Not quite understanding, she tried a different tack. "Doctor, have you ever seen Seven working on small pieces of varied metals, welding them together, using perhaps a laser scalpel, to make objects around twenty-five centimetres high?"

"No, and it really doesn't sound like something Seven would do, Captain, since the objects would serve no useful purpose."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Leaning back in her chair, fingers drumming on the arm, slowly a realisation dawned on Janeway that was so obvious she couldn't believe she had been fooled. Expecting to feel annoyance, she surprised herself when instead a huge grin cracked her handsome features, and the Captain began to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

Tapping idly on the arm of her favourite chair, Janeway was counting down the minutes until the end of her shift. She should really have been on the bridge in order to hand over officially to Chakotay, who had the night shift, but the Captain had instructed Tuvok to do so instead. Nothing of note had occurred anyway, and Voyager was on course at high speed. Although outside the ship things were rather uninteresting, it was inside Voyager where all the action was. Having heard rumours of a party that evening in the former observation lounge, Janeway had brought forward the meal that she was planning with Seven-of-Nine, and Neelix would be sending it up at 19.00 hours. Seven herself would finish her shift in just over half an hour.

They were still there. Despite the fact that they weren't 'art' and never had been, Janeway couldn't bring herself to move them. They seemed less menacing now, though, and more amusing, a reminder that her lover possessed a humour and wit that was so often hidden. She regarded the one she had broken, the 'frailty of human consciousness', and it occurred to Janeway that as an entirely different joke it had quite possibly been designed to fall apart as soon as one so much as breathed on it. The more the Captain learned about her enigmatic, ex-Borg partner, the more she felt there was to know.

Janeway, though she had been officially on duty, had had a productive afternoon. Having contemplated several courses of action regarding Seven's 'art' prank, which had fooled Janeway completely, the Captain had settled for getting her own back, beating Seven at her own game, as it were. Above the shelves on which the Borg's sculptures stood, Janeway had placed several pieces of her own artwork. All were drawings on paper, one was of Voyager, another was a sketch of a sleeping Seven-of-Nine, one showed a house with a few trees. There were five in total – suitably entitled 'Voyager', 'Seven', 'House', 'Dog' and 'Snowman' – and every one resembled a five-year-old's work, with shaky lines, bold colourful scribbles and looking very little like what it was supposed to picture. In the corner of each one was a small signature - Janeway's – and they were all framed with thick, multi-coloured plastic. Janeway was pleased with her efforts, though she was worried that she might not be able to stop herself laughing, and had spent a good portion of the afternoon practising keeping a straight face.

**Part 2**

"I'm not sure I see the joke here," said Tom, frowning at his half-Klingon girlfriend who grinned back anyway.

"If you don't see it, I can't explain it to you," declared B'Elanna Torres, casually tossing aside her uniform jacket onto their bedroom floor as she wandered over to the wardrobe and yanked it open.

Paris picked up the black-and-yellow item and folded it neatly before draping it over the back of a chair. He sat down on the bed, not really noticing as Torres shrugged out of her top and stood half-naked whilst she chose what to wear. "Well, I don't see it," he repeated, flopping onto his back.

"Well then, I can't explain it to you!" snapped B'Elanna, her patience wearing thin. Paris wasn't normally this dense, she thought, picking out dark trousers and a forest-green blouse that was cut low on the chest.

Tom thought about B'Elanna's story – fake art, a confused Captain, breaking and entering, damaging property – and genuinely could not see what was causing the engineer to crack up every time she thought about it. Perhaps it was the way she described it, Tom considered, deciding that maybe he should ask Seven and hear it from the horse's mouth.

B'Elanna's words cut into his musings. "Aren't you getting changed?" It was phrased as a question, but by the tone it was anything but. Tom rolled over and smiled.

"Relax, B'Elanna, the party doesn't start for another hour and a half!"

"But you have to put up the decorations," she reminded him pointedly, "plus prepare the bar and the food, arrange the tables, think about the naming ceremony – who will perform it, what you will say and all the rest. You are not going to let Neelix do all the work for your party, do you hear? So, are you getting changed?"

Tom sighed and scooted to the edge of the bed, pushing himself to his feet. About to peer into his half of the wardrobe to have a look at what he might wear, the helmsman found himself with a face full of clothing.

"Wear this," ordered Torres, thrusting several items in his direction, "but take a shower first. I'll head up there now."

"Aye, Sir," replied Tom, with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. Sarcasm and Klingons were a painful mix, as he had experienced on more than one occasion. Receiving a glare in return, the young Lieutenant hastily retreated to the bathroom.

**Part 3**

Janeway was seated at her dining table, contemplating a half-finished 1000-piece jigsaw that showed a stunning view of Earth rising above the Moon's horizon, when the doors to her quarters opened, precisely on time. "Hey," she called, without turning around, and was surprised and pleased when a pair of long arms encircled her shoulders, and a soft kiss was planted on her cheek. "That'd better be you, Seven," joked the older woman, leaning her head back to receive a longer kiss, this time on the lips. "I could get used to this."

"You will," replied Seven, hugging her partner a little longer before letting go and moving away, only to stand uncertainly in the middle of the room. It was the first day that the two women were living together, and the ex-Borg seemed unsure of what to do.

Taking pity on her, Janeway stood and approached her lover, putting an arm around the tall blonde's shoulders which meant that the Captain had to stand on tiptoes. "This is your home now, Seven. Whatever you want to do when you are here, don't feel that you have to ask permission. Relax, chat, read, have a drink or whatever – it's entirely up to you. If you want to talk about work, that's ok, but if possible let's try to keep work outside our quarters. Come on, let's sit for a while. Would you care for a glass of wine?"

Seven agreed, though still looking a bit out of place, and accepted a glass that was offered to her. Both women walked over to the comfortable chairs and the low table where they set their glasses, taking separate chairs but ones which were close together. They smiled at each other and talked for a few minutes, and inside Janeway was on tenterhooks. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the younger woman's glance strayed to the shelves by the door.

The ice-blue eyes widened at first, watched carefully by the Captain, then narrowed as Seven studied the pictures that adorned the wall above her sculptures. Janeway continued to talk, as though she hadn't noticed, and it was only when she had asked a question and got no response that she finally mentioned the drawings.

"I see you noticed my pictures, Seven," Janeway said animatedly, nodding her head towards them. "I was so inspired by the obvious passion that you had for your art that I dug out some of my best work, and also drew a new one this afternoon. The third one along is for you; it's entitled 'Seven'."

For several seconds the Borg didn't speak, but continued to regard the simplistic, childish sketches with little emotion showing. Eventually, she replied, and though Janeway had to control herself with some effort, she was somewhat disappointed at the Borg's careful – and unexpected – use of tact. "It is very nice."

"And what about the others?" prodded the Captain, her eyes meeting Seven's, who looked away quickly, staring again at Janeway's pictures.

"They do not demonstrate the technical skill I have seen in other drawings," started the younger woman slowly, and Janeway thought that now she would begin to enjoy herself. She was wrong. "Yet they possess a certain charm, a childlike innocence that is quite…attractive. Perhaps you would do a larger work some time, one which we could place in the bedroom?"

Janeway was unsure whether her leg was being pulled (again) or if her partner was expressing herself genuinely. There was no indication that Seven was teasing her, but then again the ex-Borg had remained straight-faced during the whole unveiling of her 'sculptures' earlier in the day. Deciding that either way it didn't matter, for clearly her plan of getting even had fallen woefully short of the mark, the older woman pushed herself up and took a step sideways to where Seven was sitting, formally upright in an armchair.

Sinking down onto her lover's knee, Janeway put her arms around the blonde's slim waist and snuggled down against Seven's body, both women still wearing their uniforms with the coloured stripes; Janeway's a deep red, Seven's the light green that the Captain had given her. Her head rested on the younger woman's shoulder, and Janeway could hear the rhythmic thump of Seven's heart as they cuddled, relaxing together. It was a moment of pure tenderness, two people in love simply holding each other without speaking.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Part 1**

Kathryn Janeway and Seven-of-Nine were still entwined in an armchair when the door chime gave its customary beep. Inwardly the Captain groaned, for much as she wanted to eat a hot meal, she wished that the feeling of being so close to her lover could continue forever. Neither woman moved for several seconds, but when the sound came again, Seven stirred under Janeway, gently lifting the older woman clear and rising to her feet. The tall, blonde ex-Borg quickly crossed to the doors, and Janeway heard muted strains of conversation outside before her partner reappeared, bearing a huge tray of food.

Stretching lazily, Janeway glanced at the feast that Neelix had provided. "Couldn't he have sent it up via the replicators? Or the transporters?" she yawned, finally pushing herself upright and stumbling to the dining table where Seven had already placed the plates of food.

With a quick smile, Seven took her seat, Janeway doing likewise opposite her. The two women looked up simultaneously, their eyes meeting, and a thrill shot through the Captain as the ice-blue orbs stared into her own.

"Mr. Neelix wanted to wish us a pleasant evening, in person. I told him that 'the Captain and I appreciate his efforts' and that 'we will no doubt encounter him later on tonight, at the party'."

Taking a sip of wine, which became a slurp, the older woman grinned, her handsome face lighting up with emotion. "Thank you. I didn't know that you knew about the party, Seven?"

"Tom came to see me earlier in Astrometrics. He purported to be asking about the plasma manifold modifications, when in reality his intention was to inform me of the celebration. I believe that we should attend, Captain."

"Kathryn," said Janeway automatically, though it made little difference. She had said it so often that it was like a mantra, yet she could count on one hand the number of times the ex-Borg had called her 'Kathryn'. Though it had bothered her at first, somehow it seemed to matter less and less. The Captain continued, both women barely registering the pause. "I agree. You know, it'll be the first time we'll be seen together in public."

"Incorrect. Yesterday you and I had lunch together in the mess hall, as we have done on many occasions. We have regularly played Velocity together, and have had several conversations at various important functions."

"Yes," began the older woman, sighing just a little and starting to pick at the food that was in front of her, "but that's different. I meant it's the first time we'll be seen together as a couple, you know, _together_."

For a moment Seven appeared confused, but then her expression cleared, which the Captain took to mean that her partner understood the significance. Janeway turned her attention to the food, which was very tasty and extremely plentiful. The sausages were indeed delicious, though she noticed that Seven hadn't even put one on her plate and showed no intention of sampling the 'pork'. Wondering if her lover knew something she didn't, but deciding not to ask, Janeway tucked into her own sausage with undisguised relish. Chewing thoughtfully, the Captain looked across at Seven, who had stopped eating altogether and was regarding her with a curious look, pale blue eyes wide and bright.

"I am…unsure as to how one should act on such an occasion," admitted the young woman. "I do not wish to behave inappropriately in any way. Do you have any advice?"

There was a strangled choke across the table as Janeway tried not to laugh, not wanting to seem to be making light of her partner's anxiety. But compared to some of the inappropriate behaviour she had displayed in the past, the Captain thought that there was very little that would embarrass her at this stage, unless Seven took it into her head to start a brawl, or perform a striptease. Putting that idea quickly out of her head, she reached out her arm, taking the ex-Borg's mesh-covered fingers in her own.

"Just try to relax, and be yourself. Stick to light topics of conversation and smile. You'll be fine." Janeway squeezed the slender fingers reassuringly.

"Would it be inappropriate to display affection towards you?" asked the younger woman, frowning slightly and tightening her own grip on Janeway's hand. Both women had stopped eating now, their attention entirely focused on each other.

Somehow, Janeway felt that the conversation had suddenly turned in flavour, becoming more serious and perhaps one that would prove to be very important, and therefore the Captain weighed her words carefully before speaking. "No…" replied Janeway slowly, making sure her eyes met Seven's unwavering gaze and holding it. "No, it wouldn't be inappropriate, Seven. We are partners, and as such are allowed to show it. But there are, well, rules, if you like; things that are acceptable and things that aren't."

"Explain. I mean, please can you explain further, Captain," the Borg corrected with a trace of self-consciousness, and her partner smiled in return for the effort.

"Kathryn. We can hold hands, for instance, but not touch each other intimately," began Janeway, realising she had better be specific, for though the conversation may be awkward now, it would be a whole lot less embarrassing than if Seven decided to jump on her in front of the entire crew. "It's fine to put an arm around a partner's waist or shoulders, particularly when dancing-"

The younger woman's face brightened then, causing the Captain to pause, wondering what she had said to cause such a reaction. "Will we be dancing together?" asked Seven, with what was for her a noticeably excited tone.

"I expect so," shrugged Janeway. "Anyway, so those things would be fine. We can kiss, too, but only briefly and not too frequently. Again, especially whilst dancing, also when greeting each other or parting. We absolutely cannot discuss our personal life – our physical intimacy, I mean – nor should we spend the evening only with each other. That's particularly true for me, because as the Captain I'm expected to try and talk to everybody. Is all that clear, Seven?" Janeway squeezed her lover's hand again as she asked, feeling a bit like a strict schoolteacher lecturing her wayward pupil.

Seven-of-Nine nodded. "It is. I shall endeavour to follow these…rules."

As they resumed eating, after a few minutes Janeway became aware of the ex-Borg watching her once again, this time with a smile as Janeway gulped down the last bite of sausage, nodding with approval. "What?" she asked, wiping her chin with a napkin and leaning back in her chair.

"Mr. Neelix informed me that he had 'added a little something extra' to the sausages, which would 'spice them up a bit'. Were they enjoyable?"

The Captain's look shot daggers across the table as she prodded at a tiny morsel remaining on her plate with a fork, inspecting the innocuous-looking meat warily. "And you didn't think to tell me this _before_ I ate three of the damn things? Look here, what do you think that is?" Janeway pushed the plate across, jabbing at a greenish speck.

"Do you wish me to run a molecular analysis, Captain?" asked Seven blandly, and this time Janeway's glance was apologetic as she meekly withdrew the plate and fork and pushed them aside.

"Sorry, Seven. It's just, after six years of Neelix's cooking, I've learned the hard way that a little suspicion is a good thing. They were lovely, actually, and not spicy at all. Oh well," she shrugged, putting it out of her mind, "we'd better go and get ready."

Together, Janeway and Seven loaded the crockery and cutlery into the replicator then made their way into the bedroom, hand-in-hand. As they shared a deep yet brief kiss, the older woman wished that they had more time, for a familiar feeling had awoken inside her. At that moment Janeway would have given her right arm to be able to climb into bed with her partner and make long, passionate love through the night. Seven, though, was having none of it, firmly steering Janeway around the bed and towards the wardrobe.

**Part 2**

The former observation lounge buzzed with conversation and laughter, and was a feast for the eyes. Bedecked in garlands, ribbons, flowers, tinsel and banners, the predominantly blue décor was overshadowed by the gaudy additions, representing every colour of the Starfleet rainbow, including the light green that the Captain had provided for Seven-of-Nine. Behind the bar, a fraught-looking Neelix scuttled to and fro, serving the crew with various colourful concoctions as well as more usual drinks. A buffet lay to one side, for the moment largely untouched, since the party was only just starting to liven up.

People stood in pairs or groups, chatting comfortably with their friends and colleagues who had now, after six long years in the Delta Quadrant, become more like family. The only people missing were those either currently on duty, or those who would relieve them shortly, including Tuvok who had agreed to take Chakotay's shift on the bridge. It was Chakotay's bar, his creation, one which had proved more popular than anyone imagined, and to have had an inaugural party without the First Officer present would have been unthinkable.

"Hey, Chakotay!"

The Commander looked around for the source of the greeting, and saw Tom Paris beckoning him over from across the room. He was standing with the Doctor, who sported a pink party hat, and Harry Kim, Paris's usual partner-in-crime. Wandering over, Chakotay snatched up several drinks from a passing crewman-turned-waiter, presenting them to the officers with a flourish.

"Well, gentlemen, you've excelled yourself this time. This is all fantastic." He was genuinely pleased at the effort, time and replicator rations that had been spent on the bar's official opening night, and it showed in his expression. Paris grinned back, raising his glass.

"You'll be giving the official opening speech later, I know," said Tom, "but how about a small toast for now? To Chakotay, and the best idea he's ever had…One Upward!"

"Hear, hear!"

"One Upward!"

Raising his glass with the others, Chakotay took an obliging sip, then frowned as the helmsman's words registered properly. "Wait a minute, Tom – _I'm_ not giving the speech."

Paris and Kim exchanged glances, though the Chief Medical Officer was looking in a completely different direction, oblivious to the conversation going on around him. "Sure you are, Chakotay – it's your bar! Who else is gonna declare it open?"

Ten seconds of silence passed, as Chakotay raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for the obvious answer to dawn on the Lieutenant. The moment never came, though, and he was forced to answer the question anyway.

"Captain Janeway, naturally. It's her ship, Tom. Excuse me." With those words, Chakotay strode away, with so much determination that one might have assumed he had a destination in mind. Paris watched the senior officer as he diverted to the bar, raising his hand holding an empty glass and tipping his head towards the furry little Talaxian, who hurried over to serve Voyager's First Officer.

"You know," Harry began, following his friend's gaze for a few seconds before turning back to face the taller man, "if this had been my idea, no way would anyone take it away from me, not even the Captain."

"Amen to that," drawled Paris, clinking classes noisily. The night had barely begun.

**Part 3**

Having waited in her living room for the best part of twenty minutes, Captain Janeway found herself tapping one foot impatiently, and quickly stopped, hoping it hadn't been heard. She had been ready for that length of time, having donned an impeccably smart, white tuxedo, with matching trousers, black shirt and a white bow tie. The handsome Captain carried the look well, exuding confidence and authority with a distinctive attractiveness that was all her own.

Though there was, in fact, no rush, for the party's official start was barely half an hour ago, she felt agitated. Trying to calm herself down, the sturdy woman crossed to the kitchen area, where she withdrew a dark-coloured bottle from the back of a cupboard. Reaching out to open another door, Janeway's slender fingers were on the verge of touching a fine, crystal glass, when she changed her mind, allowing it to close with a soft clunk. Without hesitating, the Captain pulled the stopper from the three-quarters-full bottle and took a deep swallow of the fiery liquid it contained. Having thought that the alcohol would quell the nervous churnings in her stomach, Janeway had also hoped that the effects of hot brandy would have overpowered the oddly intense sexual arousal that was increasing by the minute, spreading from her groin up her spine and outwards. Since the first draught had no effect, the Captain tried a second, then a third, but still the lustful feelings continued.

"If I have any more, I won't feel much at all," muttered Janeway to herself, shoving the bottle noisily back where it came from and wiping her lips on her sleeve.

"I beg your pardon?"

The Captain stood suddenly, banging her head hard against the kitchen surface top as she did so. "Ow, fu- I mean, Christ, that hurt!" Dazed from the impact, Janeway rubbed the back of her head with one hand, gingerly probing with her fingers and examining them for any sign of blood.

Instantly, her partner was at her side. "Are you injured?" demanded Seven, taking the older woman's arm and moving her closer to the light in the centre of the room. She peered carefully, parting Janeway's thick, reddish hair and causing the Captain to wince.

"I'll be fine, just a knock." Seeing the ex-Borg's concerned and disbelieving expression, Janeway mustered a convincing grin. "Really, Seven. Wow. You look…amazing."

Wearing a long, midnight-blue evening gown, with a green wispy scarf which was the same colour as the green of her uniform, tall heels above which showed a flash of ankle as she walked, Seven was, thought Janeway, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Stepping forward, the older woman embraced her lover gently, kissing a pale cheek softly as a single tear coursed down her own face. As they hugged warmly, the stirrings of excitement within Janeway that had diminished with the unfortunate head-banging reared up once again with a ferocity that was startling, and the Captain jerked away suddenly.

"We – we'd better go," she stuttered, attempting to cover her odd behaviour. By the curious look in her lover's eyes, Janeway could tell that she had not succeeded, however she hadn't become a Starfleet Captain by being easily diverted from her missions. "I hope Tom and Harry have done a good job, for Chakotay's sake. You know that the bar was all his work?"

Resuming their usual chatter, the two women left their quarters arm-in-arm.

**Part 4**

As it was not an 'official' function, there was no announcement as the Captain entered, however such an announcement would have been entirely superfluous, for the mere appearance of Captain Janeway and Seven-of-Nine was enough to stun the guests into silence. Still with arms firmly linked, Janeway and her taller partner walked slowly down the narrow gap that formed as the crowd parted, the auburn-haired Captain feeling more than a little ridiculous. Somewhere at the back of the room, a solitary pair of hands began to clap, and as Janeway approached the bar it spread throughout the gathering, growing louder and accompanied by cheers and whistles. Realising that she had to do something, she held up one hand, and the noise died down instantly.

"Thank you," Janeway said sincerely, meeting the eyes of Chakotay and smiling warmly. "This isn't my speech-"

Nervous laughter rippled around the room at these words, and the Captain waited until there was silence once again. "What you see around you is all down to Commander Chakotay, and though I may be better dressed than he-"

Again there was laughter, with the First Officer joining in wholeheartedly. He wore his usual red and black uniform, having not even thought to wear civilian clothing.

"- it is he whom you should be thanking. Chakotay, you've done our crew proud. Thank you." Janeway held her second-in-command's gaze for a long moment before turning away with a final nod, surprised to find tears in her eyes. Brushing them away with her fingers, she shot a smile at Neelix, but as he made to hurry over, Janeway frowned, signalling that she would wait her turn. It wasn't necessary, though, for at that moment a beaming Tom Paris appeared before her.

"What can I get you, Captain?"

Janeway eyed him suspiciously. "Tending bar now, are we, Lieutenant?"

Paris adopted a hurt expression, which he couldn't keep up for very long. "Just helping out when it gets busy. We have a wonderful selection of cocktails, Captain – I recommend the 'Orange Sunset'."

Exchanging a glance with Seven, Janeway nodded slowly. "Alright, we'll give it a go. Two 'Orange Sunsets' please."

More than anything, the Captain wanted a good belt of a strong spirit; brandy preferably, or whisky, gin, anything. Just something that would douse her arousal that had grown so strong that she ached in places she never thought possible. When Seven's arm brushed her own, Janeway felt her knees weaken, and quickly led her partner to a table that was mercifully unoccupied. It was probably the best table in the bar, with a fantastic view into space in two directions, the table slightly separated from all the others which afforded some privacy to its occupants, and it occurred to the Captain that the table had been left vacant on purpose.

Across the crowded bar, Paris and Torres watched their Captain and her girlfriend as they settled at the Captain's table. It hadn't, in actual fact, been planned, yet somehow the crew had avoided sitting in the prime spot, so ingrained was their respect for their Captain who had given so much for them.

"They look good together, don't they?" remarked Paris, looking on as Janeway and Seven leaned close together, obviously talking in quiet voices, the older woman's hand resting on her partner's arm as she spoke.

"They're in love," replied Torres, suddenly feeling a flash of emotion for her own long-suffering partner and catching him by the hand. "I hope it all works out for them," she said wistfully, unable to pull her eyes away as she watched Janeway pull the ex-Borg closer and kiss her briefly on the lips.

With a broad grin, Paris held firmly onto the half-Klingon's fingers and, before she could protest, the boyish Lieutenant had pulled her into the middle of the wooden floor. With a hand signal from Tom, the music changed, and the couple initiated the first dance of the evening, joined by another couple, then another, and several more, until the dancers outnumbered the rest. Music played, drinks flowed, and Kathryn Janeway felt more aroused than ever before.


	6. Chapter 6

A word of caution: DO NOT read this chapter if you are in any way sensitive about two women making love, along with everything that may entail. You have been warned…

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Janeway sat quietly, her slender fingers encircling a glass, toying with it before lifting it and sipping the contents. She had finally managed to obtain a proper drink, a fine Talaxian brandy that she thought would extinguish even the most amorous of feelings. Unfortunately, the fire burning inside was too powerful, and, if anything, the hot spirit was making things worse. She shifted uncomfortably, painfully aware of her intimate regions throbbing with each beat of her heart, and dropped her head, staring into the amber liquid. Though she couldn't be sure, Janeway suspected that her heightened sexual impulses had been sent into overdrive by Neelix's 'added spice', and she vowed to have words with him in the morning. "Bloody sex sausages," she muttered darkly, glaring over at the Talaxian as he worked his magic behind the bar of One Upward.

A sound disturbed the Captain, then a touch; a light caress on one shoulder that sparked a fierce tingling throughout that area. Sitting upright with a tiny groan, her grey-blue eyes met those of her lover, sending a fresh shoot of agonising pleasure from between her legs. The ex-Borg's hand grasped Janeway's, tugging her to her feet and wordlessly leading the trembling Captain onto the dance floor. Several couples still occupied the area, swaying gently to the slow waltz, and the older woman moved closer to her partner, wrapping her arms around the taller woman's slender waist. Feeling Seven's arms stretch obligingly around her shoulders, Janeway kissed the pale neck, brushing her lips over the smooth surface down to where the skin was covered by blue material.

In return, she felt soft lips press against her temple, finding the sensitive pressure point and lingering there. A low moan escaped the Captain's throat as she struggled to keep her composure, for now she could feel warm moisture seeping out from inside her, spreading over her intimate folds and causing a slipperiness that, when she moved even slightly, took Janeway's breath away. Her erect nipples, mercifully hidden under her tuxedo jacket, scraped against the thick material as her breasts touched against Seven's, and the sharp sensation shot down her aching body to meet with the almost unbearable warmth radiating from her groin.

Swaying in time to the music, the lovers' bodies were barely touching, but it was enough. Janeway pressed her lips against Seven's ear and whispered urgently, her breath hot against the other's skin. "Hold me tight, Seven." The older woman buried her face against the ex-Borg's shoulder, muffling any sounds that might have escaped otherwise.

The searing heat bubbled up through Janeway's entire body, out of control, and Seven did as she had been asked, keeping a tight grasp around Janeway as she felt the unmistakeable shudder of a climax ripple through her partner, leaving the smaller woman breathless and shaking. They continued to dance as Seven led the Captain away from the main area towards a corner, where she pressed Janeway up against the wall. There were so many people there that the couple was surrounded, warm bodies touching the women frequently as the crowd jostled around them.

"More," murmured Janeway softly, her lips touching Seven's ear and nibbling gently. Eyes meeting as the Borg raised her eyebrows, asking for and receiving a nod of confirmation from the older woman, nobody noticed as long fingers slid down the Captain's stomach, slipping under the waistband of the loose-fitting trousers and the soft, cotton underwear and further down, until Seven found Janeway's centre of pleasure and massaged it slowly. The small bundle of nerves was as hard as a pebble, and with Seven's touch it swelled further, pulsing between her fingers. She rubbed harder, sensing that was what her lover wanted, for Janeway's grip around Seven's neck tightened, the Captain's face pressed into the taller woman's shoulder once again.

Around the couple, oblivious partygoers talked and laughed, barely glancing at the Captain who was enjoying a close embrace with her ex-Borg partner. Had they looked more closely, they would have noticed Janeway's body jerking suddenly, muscles contracting rhythmically before relaxing, the Captain unable to stand and held up by her partner's strength alone.

**Part 2**

Stumbling into their quarters, with Seven keeping a firm hold on Janeway, the two women made no pretense of offering coffee or wine. Even before the doors swished shut, Janeway's fingers had found the fastener of the tall Borg's dress and were dragging it down, fevered arousal making her want to rip the garment away. Finally exposing her lover's naked body, the Captain dropped to her knees, about to make love to Seven with her tongue and lips, when she felt hands reach underneath her arms, drawing her to her feet. She stood rigid as her jacket was slipped off her narrow shoulders, followed by the black shirt and the trousers. Last to be removed was her underwear, the soaked material peeled off and tossed aside.

The older woman made to kneel once again, but was stopped, a knowing smile spreading across the Borg's fine features. "I think it is you who requires attention, Captain," suggested the young blonde, suddenly lifting Janeway off her feet and carrying her into the bedroom, where the Captain was unceremoniously dumped on the large bed.

"Kathryn," gasped Janeway, unable to speak further for her mouth was covered by Seven's at that moment, sharing a kiss that was rough and hungry. Feeling a palm caressing the small triangle of thatch between her legs, the older woman thrust against it, desperately seeking release. A finger slipped inside, and it felt so good that Janeway moaned, asking for more. Seven's finger was joined by two more, moving against the scarred walls of her womanhood, one curled finger pressing upwards against the most sensitive spot. "All of them," said Janeway softly, spreading her legs wider to allow the younger woman the space she needed.

Pushing gently, Seven's fingers penetrated her partner, resting little more than an inch inside the slick tunnel whilst her other hand stroked the Captain's sensitive bump. Wanting to be filled in a way she never had before, and most likely never would again, Janeway reached down with her long arms, grasping Seven's wrist and pulling upwards, drawing the Borg's hand deeper inside her. A gasp of pain ripped from her lungs as the knuckles breached the narrow opening, then Janeway lay back, letting the incredible feelings take hold.

Slowly, Seven moved her arm forwards and backwards, beginning a rhythm that she matched with her other hand, caressing the hard nodule with two fingers. Janeway had never experienced such feelings, and it was with an explosive thrill that came from deep inside that she reached a climax so powerful that her body lifted from the bed with a cry of pure ecstasy. Withdrawing carefully, Seven wrapped the shaking woman in her arms, rocking her gently as the Captain continued to tremble, coming down from the ultimate peak.

Two hours and five orgasms later, Janeway was finally asleep through sheer exhaustion, with her lover not far behind. The ex-Borg looked down at her sleeping partner, idly running one hand up the inside of Janeway's thigh. The older woman stirred in her sleep and, amused, Seven continued, tracing her fingers up to Janeway's glistening mound. The Captain whimpered softly when the younger woman touched the small bump at the top of her lover's folds, but didn't awaken as Seven stroked lovingly, wanting to give Janeway a dream she would remember.

Within minutes, Seven brought the Captain to a climax, her relaxed limbs twitching in response as Janeway moaned again, still breathing deeply and very much asleep. The Borg smiled, caressing her partner one last time before settling down on the bed beside the older woman, folding her into a loving embrace and closing her eyes, pleased with her night's work.

**Author's Note**

I hope you have enjoyed reading this episode as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't be shy, now – review Chapter 6 and give me a laugh!

Huge thanks as always to my readers, reviewers, critics and fans – it wouldn't be the same without you.


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